


a google search a day keeps the heartbreak away

by ironccap



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, Google searches, Idiots in Love, In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Martín doesn't understand his feelings, Pre-Relationship, Requited Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:33:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironccap/pseuds/ironccap
Summary: "he makes me blush""heart rate speeds up when he touches me""is he interested if he compliments me (on engineering)""how do you know you’re in love"Martín slammed his laptop shut with a frustrated groan. As if Google was going to solve the mystery that was Andrés de Fonollosa!Also known as: five times Martín had to consult Google, and one time he didn’t.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 19
Kudos: 128





	a google search a day keeps the heartbreak away

**1**.

Andrés was _right there_ when they explained the plans of the heist to Sergio. He leaned over to take the Playmobil dolphin figurine from behind Martín, practically invading his personal space. Not that Martín was complaining, far from it.

The moment felt so intimate, and Martín, unable to control his natural reactions to Andrés, started to blush uncontrollably, silently cursing his genes for his pale complexion. Because he was sure he looked like an absolute fool, now.

However, Andrés didn’t seem to notice what effect he had on Martín. Or he simply tried to ignore it, that was possible too. Nevertheless, he continued his rant to Sergio, about how wonderful the Bank plan was, and how successful it would be. Then, he touched Martín’s lower back, his hand carefully sliding from Martín’s arm all the way down to his waist.

“Martín is the most skilled engineer I know, Sergio. With his calculations, I’m sure we will be able to break into the vault. You should trust him some more, _hermano_ ,” he said, “because I trust him with my life.”

That was the moment in which Martín became painstakingly aware of his heartbeat speeding up, and he was sure that if he didn’t do anything about it right now, he’d go into a cardiac arrest soon. He stepped out of the half-embrace that Andrés was still holding him in, and excused himself from the classroom. 

Back in his room, he felt like an idiot. Like a middle school kid, trying to hide his.. _crush_ ? He took a deep breath, trying to rearrange his thoughts. Sure, he admired Andrés. How could he not? The man was everything to him, they spent almost all of their time together in the monastery. It didn’t immediately mean he was _in love_ , didn’t it? But what about the blushing, then? And the ridiculous thumping of his heart?

Combing a hand through his hair, he walked over to his desk, opening up his laptop. He felt ridiculous when he clicked on the search bar.

**_— he makes me blush_ **

_**— why am i blushing?** _

_**— heart rate speeds up when he touches me** _

_**— is he interested if he compliments me (on engineering)** _

_**— how do you know you’re in love** _

He slammed his laptop shut with a frustrated groan. As if Google was going to solve the mystery that was Andrés de Fonollosa. 

**2**.

Martin was sitting in the study, perched over the book that was open on his desk. He’d been trying to solve the last few equations concerning the vault of the bank for a few hours now, and he was growing more and more frustrated every passing minute. He was a trained engineer, how hard could it be? 

With one annoyed sigh, he slammed the book close, throwing his pencil back in its leather case. He decided to give up, at least for today. He heard the door of the study go open, the oldness of the hinges making it creak loudly. 

“Martín,” he heard Andrés’ voice resonate through the study. He looked up at him, a small smile already coming to form on his lips. 

“Andrés. I thought you were going out with Julia, today?” he answered, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible when he mentioned the name of Andrés' new wife. 

Andrés' shoulders slumped slightly at the mention, his eyes locking intensely with those of Martín when he spoke up again.

“She left me, Martín.”

So, that’s why he was here, then. Martín busied himself with putting away his notebook, getting up from his chair. He walked over to the big wooden closet in the far right corner of the room, to stock his stuff there.

“I’m sorry, Andrés. She didn’t deserve you, anyway,” he said, rubbing his eyes from the fatigue that was slowly starting to spread through his body. 

Andrés nodded at that, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Martín watched him carefully as he stepped through the room, heading for the record player. He took one of the LP’s out of its sleeve, inspecting it thoroughly before putting it on.

_Helplessly hoping_

_Her harlequin hovers nearby_

_Awaiting a word_

“Dance with me,” Andrés said. It wasn’t a question, but a request. Martín realised that Andrés needed that, now. Like he always did when one of his wives left him. The assurance from Martín, the promise that he would be there for Andrés. And who was he to deny him? 

Martín crossed the distance between them. Unsure of how to start, he aimed for Andrés' shoulder. But then Andrés took his arms and redirected them towards his waist, gently placing them there, stepping forward.

_Gasping at glimpses_

_Of gentle true spirit_

_He runs, whising he could fly_

_Only to trip at the sound of good-bye_

They swayed like that for a while, neither of them saying a word. Martín was scared to speak up, to accidentally say more than he would normally allow his heart to tell. 

_Wordlessly watching_

_He waits by the window_

_And wonders_

_At the empty place inside_

Andrés was the first one to break the silence, pressing himself closer to Martín, if that were even possible.

“Do you think I’m incapable of loving?” he asked. It took Martín by surprise, making him stop in his tracks. He looked up at Andrés, brows furrowed. 

“Why do you ask me that?” he eventually decided to say, realising he was entering a dangerous subject. 

“Julia told me I was,” Andrés said, seemingly indifferent. But Martín could make out the slight tremble in his voice when he spoke. 

“Julia doesn’t know you,” Martín said. _Not like I do._

Andrés murmured something at that, seemingly reacting with approval. He resumed the dancing that Martín had abruptly stopped seconds earlier. 

_Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams_

_He worries_

_Did he hear a good-bye? Or even hello?_

“I don’t think you’re incapable of loving,” Martín mumbled against Andrés’ shoulder, “those women, they just don't see you for who you really are.”

It was the right thing to say, because Andrés’ mood had improved. He was now staring up at Martín with a wide smile, crinkles around his beautiful brown eyes. 

_They are one person_

_They are two alone_

_They are three together_

_They are for each other_

“Thank you, Martín,” Andrés said, “for this dance, and for being here for me.” He wiped a few loose strands of hair out of Martín’s eyes, his hand lingering just a beat too long. 

“Always,” Martín said, but it came out in a whisper. He was aware of his clammy palms and had trouble maintaining eye contact with Andrés. 

_Stand by the stairway_

_You'll see something_

_Certain to tell you confusion has its cost_

_Love isn't lying_

_It's loose in a lady who lingers_

_Saying she is lost_

_And choking on hello_

“It was a pleasure. But you’re growing tired, _cariño_. You should get some sleep,” Andrés said, disentangling himself from the embrace. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I should take some rest. I’ve been working on the plans the whole day,” Martín answered honestly.

“You’re working too hard, Martín. I admire your work, but you have to think about your own health as well,” Andrés said then, “so, now, go to bed.”

Martín nodded, ready to let go completely of Andrés' waist, but then he felt a sudden jerking gesture on his arm, making him get drawn back to the other man. 

Andrés pulled him a tight embrace, and leaned closer, planting a soft butterfly kiss on Martín’s cheek. That took Martín by surprise, because it had never happened before. Sure, Andrés had come to Martín for comfort several other times, but not like this. Never this intimate, this close. 

“Sleep well, Martín,” was all Andrés said before he disappeared into the corridor, leaving Martín alone in the dark, with only the outro of the song resonating against the walls and his thoughts to accompany him.

_They are one person_

_They are two alone_

_They are three together_

_They are for each other_

Later that night, in his bed, Martín went over the day again, step by step. He took out his laptop, ignoring the voice in his head that screamed how pathetic he was, that he was acting like a twelve year old. He pushed all his thoughts aside, and surrendered himself to the Google search bar once again.

**_—_ ** **_he kissed my cheek_ **

_**— why did he kiss my cheek?** _

_**— in love with your best friend: tips** _

**3**.

The rain was pouring against the windows, the loud thundering sounds accompanied by the occasional lightning bolt. Martín was curled against his pillow, shaking from head to toe.

He hated thunderstorms, he absolutely despised them. They reminded him of the lonely nights he'd passed on the streets of Buenos Aires during storms, right after his parents had thrown him out of the house. Nights spent trying to find shelter, but ending up soaking wet and sick.

Martín got up from his bed, taking a few deep breaths. Maybe some tea would calm him down. He walked over to the door, but right when he reached the latch, it swung open, revealing a familiar face.

"Andrés?" 

In his doorway, Andrés stood, carrying a cup of what smelled like chamomile tea. Martín took a step back, giving him the space to step into his room. He smiled, his heart giving a traitorous flutter when he realised that Andrés had brought it for him. He walked back to his bed, and sat down again.

"I know you don't like this weather, so I came to check up on you. Are you okay, Martín?" Andrés asked him, handing over the cup to Martín. He took place next to him on the bed.

Martín stared down at his hands, which were still shaking lightly. He was feeling cold all over, his breathing still not under control.

"N-not really, no," he admitted. He took a sip from the tea, feeling a bit of warmth spreading through his throat and chest.

Andrés took the cup from him again, hovering over Martín when he carefully put it on his nightstand. 

"Let's try to sleep a bit," Andrés said, his words accompanied by another loud rumble of the sky. Martín whimpered at the sound, shrinking slightly. 

"I c-can't. Not as long as there's a storm. B-but it's fine, don't worry. I'll just sleep a bit when this is over," Martín whispered, his eyes glued to the floor.

Andrés took Martín's hands in his, carefully rubbing his thumb over the back of the other's hand. It made a calming feeling travel through Martín’s body.

"You're cold," Andrés said. Martín nodded slightly at that. Andrés always understood exactly what was wrong with him. 

Andrés stood up, taking Martín's pillow and fluffing it a bit before putting it back.

"Get in the bed, Martín," Andrés said, taking off his slippers. Martín furrowed his brows at that, not understanding what Andrés was up to. Still, he decided to listen to what Andrés instructed him, and climbed in the bed. 

What he wasn’t expecting, was for Andrés to join him in the bed. In his head, various alarm bells were already going off, yelling at him that this was far too intimate, which was ridiculous, since Andrés was the one initiating the moment.

Andrés shuffled closer to him, spooning him, his one arm draped over Martín. The body heat radiating off of him, helped warm Martín up. The trembling of his body vanished pretty quickly and he started to focus on the breathing pattern of Andrés, matching it to his own. It made his rapid heartbeat slow down as well.

Martín closed his eyes, finally being able to drift off in a peaceful sleep. 

When he woke up again, Andrés was gone. He tried to ignore the way his heart stung at the realisation, ready to step out of bed and get himself dressed, when his eye caught the little note on his nightstand, accompanied by some fruit and yoghurt.

_I hope you slept as well as I did. Best sleep I’ve had in quite some time. - A._

The note made a big grin spread over Martín’s face, one that quickly erupted into tiny giggles, which were mostly results of the sudden shock he felt, if anything else. Andrés leaving him a note like that, did ridiculous things to him. 

Martín decided, for what felt like the five hundredth time, to do some searching again. Google was the only one who he could confess to, too scared of what would happen if he confronted Andrés himself. He took out his phone, still logged onto his account, and opened the internet app.

_**— i love him** _

_**— how to gather courage to confess love?** _

_**— date ideas** _

**4**.

One of the date ideas Google had given him was ‘treat him with a dinner and some wine’, and that was exactly what Martín was going to try. 

He’d been busy all evening, setting up the table, and some candles, too, on the balcony of the monastery. He was trying to make the sight look romantic enough, but not too romantic that Andrés would flee the scene even before Martín would’ve had a chance to open his mouth. At around six p.m., he decided to go over to Andrés’ room, to invite him.

He carefully knocked first, before opening the door to the study. Andrés was busy with a new painting, working ever so concentrated with the pencil between his lips. Martín adored the sight in front of him, loved the dedication Andrés had to art. 

“Andrés, good evening,” he said, greeting the man sitting on the chair in front of him. Andrés looked up from his art, locking his eyes with Martin’s immediately. 

“Martín, hello. What made you come to my study?” Andrés asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“What, I can’t visit my friend on this _lonely Friday night_?” Martín asked, his tone playful, despite him having trouble containing his nerves. Andrés’ chuckle sounded through the room.

“Of course, you can, _querido,_ ” he answered. 

Martín took a few passes forward, coming to stand almost face to face with Andrés, “What do you think of sharing a bottle of wine? I still have that _Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru_ from the year 1949 we stole a few years ago,” he suggested. Andrés nodded, putting away his pencils and throwing a blanket over the piece of art currently placed on his easel. He stood up and followed Martín to the balcony.

Once they arrived, Martín opened the wine, pouring in two glasses, and handing one of them over to Andrés. 

“You're treating me well today, Martín,” he said.

“Not only today, I may hope,” Martín said, feeling a bit too brave all of a sudden. He regretted his words a second after he’d spoken them, but Andrés didn't seem to notice, and just took a sip of his wine, an amused smile on his face. 

“Actually, I wanted to thank you,” Martín said, placing his own glass back on the table, “for yesterday. If you hadn’t been there for me, I would have never fallen asleep.”

Andrés looked up, seemingly taking in the illuminated sky, and spoke, “I’m always here, Martín. For you, I am. You know that, right?”

Martín blushed at those words, letting out an embarrassing little laugh that accidentally escaped his lips. He decided to get up again, scared he would succumb under the intense gaze Andrés was giving him. He walked over to the balcony and leaned against it, with his back turned to the table.

He heard the chair Andrés was sitting on, scrape over the floor, and only seconds later, he heard Andrés’ footsteps, signaling that he was making his way over. He felt the hand snaking around his waist almost simultaneously with the next sentence that was spoken.

“You mean so much to me, Martín,” Andrés whispered quietly, only meant for Martín’s ears to hear. If they hadn’t been standing so close, the sentence would’ve gotten lost in the night. 

Martín turned around then, getting captivated by the way Andrés was staring at him now. He swallowed deeply before he spoke up too. 

“I feel the same way, Andrés. You’re the most important..,” his breath hitched when Andrés' finger traced over his lips, “t-the most important person in my life.”

Andrés started leaning in forward, his hot breath against Martín's face. If he would take one more step forward, their foreheads would be touching. Martín was feeling brave, partly because of the alcohol and partly because of Andrés' hand that was still securely attached to his hip. So he took that last step forward, ready to finally connect their lips, to taste Andrés for the first time in his life, when out of the blue, the door leading to the balcony opened abruptly.

"Andrés, wh—"

The voice belonged to Andrés' brother, Sergio. Andrés immediately detached himself from Martín, making Martín stumbled forward a bit. He tried to keep himself from falling by gripping the stone wall. 

" _Hermano_ ," Andrés said, his voice almost pissed off when he addressed his brother, "is there something wrong?"

Sergio tapped his glasses with his hand, a _tic nerveux_ he'd had since forever, appearing whenever he was nervous. 

"I, uh, I needed some help with the plans for the Mint. I couldn't find you anywhere. I didn't know you guys were, uh, on a date?" he said, gesturing to the wine on the table.

Martín, nervous as ever, and also growing more and more annoyed every second, took a deep sigh before he spoke up, a bit too sudden.

"Not a date! I just wanted to do something nice. Uh, anyway, it's fine, Andrés. Go help your brother. I'll just.. _go_." 

He could hear Andrés protesting from behind him, but he decided to ignore it. He walked back to the door, ignoring how much colder and thinner the air around him suddenly felt. He slammed the door shut, and threaded back to his room. 

When he arrived there, he decided to distract himself a bit. He opened up his laptop, with the purpose of browsing some news websites, but he ended up on Google nevertheless. 

He tried not to think about what he had said before, to Andrés. How quick he had been to yell at Sergio that it wasn't a date. He tried not to think about how Andrés seemed to be dissapointed. Too many emotions were coursing through his head, and he didn't know what to make of them.

Would something have happened if Sergio hadn't entered? Would they have kissed? Or would Andrés have rejected him anyway, once he felt Martín's lips on his? It was all too much for Martín to break his head over, at least right now. 

He knew that Google would be no use, it had only given him more and more doubts in the past few days, but he still decided to give it a shot. Mainly because he had no clue what else to do. 

He clicked on the search bar, and started typing.

_**— how to know if feelings are reciprocated** _

_**— kissing a guy ideas** _

_**— will i die alone** _

**5.**

Martín had been talking to the monks all day. He didn't know what else to do. Andrés was out, buying some new clothes. He'd insisted that he urgently needed some new things. Martín had rolled his eyes at that, knowing that Andrés' closets were filled to the brim. He'd waved a quick goodbye to him, and that was it.

After his conversation with the youngest monk whom he couldn't remember the name of, Martín had decided to do something nice for Andrés, to surprise him, by cleaning up a bit.

And that's why he was currently in his art studio. He'd never been there alone before, but it didn't feel like he was invading his privacy. Andrés didn't have secrets for him, it would be okay.

Martín walked over to the easel he'd seen Andrés work behind only a few days earlier, moments before their catastrophic dinner had happened. The blanket was still carefully draped over the painting underneath, probably to hide it from the dust that would settle on it otherwise.

Martín decided that the floor underneath the easel, could use a good mopping. He took it in his hands, carefully lifting it up. Of course, he was a bit too careless with it, making the white blanket slip off of it, revealing the painting.

Martín stopped breathing at the sight in front of him. 

He found himself staring at familiar bright blue eyes delicately sketched on the paper. The mouth of the person sketched had a pencil trapped between its teeth, revealing a tooth gap that he'd recognise anywhere, because it was _his own_ . It took Martín an embarrassingly long time to put two and two together, and realise that it was _him_ on the paper. 

Andrés had been drawing _him._ Had been devoting his time to this artpiece. Of him. Of _Martín_. 

Did Andrés love him back? Did he return the feelings? It would explain why he had leaned in, too, on the balcony. It would explain all these little bits of affection Martín had received from him. Gestures that he always dismissed as Andrés just being himself, being friendly. But maybe there was more to it than just that? Maybe Martín wasn't the only one scared. Maybe he wasn't the only one with a muse.

Martín started feeling a bit light headed, and realised that he should try to even out his irregular breathing again. He couldn't tear his gaze off the drawing, but at the same time his mind was telling him to throw the blanket over the easel again. He was invading Andrés' privacy. There was a reason for hiding this painting, and he would find out whenever Andrés was ready to tell him. But he had to respect that.

Martín decided to listen to his brain, and not his heart. He picked up the blanket again and draped it over the art.

He walked out of the room, straight to his own one, forgetting about the cleaning. He could do that another day. First, he had to clean up the mess that was made in his brain. 

His laptop was already waiting for him as he threw himself on his desk chair. Stretching out his hands, he started to type.

_**— I love him** _

_**— he loves me back (does he?)** _

_**— is he my soulmate?** _

and then, too deep into the soulmate pages;

**_— find out if he is your soulmate (BuzzFeed quiz!_ )**

(According to BuzzFeed, Andrés was his soulmate, but they were both oblivious to each other's feelings.) 

  
  


**And + 1…**

Andrés had asked to use Martín's computer, to look up some websites that talked about his favourite wines. He wanted to do some research before planning another robbery. 

Martín had given him his laptop, without thinking twice about it, and was now in his own bedroom, playing on his phone.

Then, he remembered he still had to google something relevant to his engineering career. He wanted to become an engineering professor at the University of Palermo, and he still had to fill out some forms.

He opened Google then, still logged into his own account, and clicked on the search bar. Usually, he tried to ignore his previous searches that popped up in the bar, too embarrassed to acknowledge them. But now, there was no way in hell to ignore what was written in his Google search history.

_**— dear Martín, you didn't clear your Google search history. - a.** _

Fuck.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck._

Martín wanted to hit himself in the face. How could he have been so _stupid_? He was still logged onto his own account on his laptop as well. And Andrés was currently using it! Of course his entire browsing history would have immediately popped up. 

He cringed at the thought of Andrés reading all his pathetic questions, wishing to crawl into a deep hole and die.

He knew his friendship with Andrés was probably ruined now. He made it weird, not being able to control his own feelings. Tears were blurring behind his eyes, ready to fall, as he typed something himself. 

_**— fuck** _

_**— i can explain, andrés** _

_**— cheap flights back to Buenos Aires** _

He would tell Andrés, apologise, and then he'd leave. Because that was what Andrés would probably ask him to do. And he would understand. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable. 

He was about to throw his phone away, when he heard a knock on his door. 

"Leave me alone, Andrés," Martín said, his voice trembling a bit already. He was almost one hundred percent sure he wouldn't be able to handle seeing Andrés without spilling his own tears all over his cheeks. 

"Martín," Andrés said, his voice sounding soft. He opened the door, ignoring Martín's attempts at keeping him out of the room, and walked over to him confidentially.

When Andrés reached him, he did something Martín would have never expected him to do, not even in his fantasies. 

He pushed Martín just enough so he ended up sitting on the edge of the bed. Only seconds later, he straddled him, cupping Martín's cheek with his soft, beautiful hands. 

"Andr-," was all Martín could bring out, before Andrés collided their mouths together in one soft kiss, that immediately grew heated. The way Andrés' tongue poked against Martín's bottom lip, felt hot against his skin, making him burn. 

Martín opened his mouth, allowing Andrés to explore him further. He savored Andrés' taste, kissing him back deeply and passionately, while pulling the strands of hair on the back of Andrés' neck. 

When they both gasped for air again, Martín couldn't say anything. He didn't understand what had just happened.

When his brain started working a bit again, he came to a painful realisation. This was a pity kiss. Andrés had found out about his secret, and was now here to tell him to leave. Martín took a deep breath, bracing himself for what would come. 

Instead, all Andrés said was, "Martín, why are you crying?"

Martín absent-mindedly registered Andrés' thumb wiping away at some tears that had formed on his cheek. He tried not to sniffle when he spoke.

"I know you found out about… About me… about my feelings. I know you don't feel the same way. You shouldn't have kissed me like this, only for it to be a pity kiss. It wasn't fair of you—"

"Martín."

"No, listen. It wasn't fair of you to kiss me like you just did, as a sort of goodbye to me. But it's fine, I'll pack my bags and I'll be on the first trip back to Buenos Aires. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. At all. I swear, I'm so sorr—"

" _Martín!_ "

Andrés hadn't moved from his spot next to Martín, but his eyes had grown more and more worried and sad every passing minute. Martín eyed him, not continuing his rant, anticipating the rejection that would now follow.

Except, it didn't. 

Andrés took his hand, gently placing a kiss on it, before he took over the conversation, "Martín, _corazón_. Do you hear yourself? You're being ridiculous. I don't want you gone here. Why would I ever want you _gone_?"

"But—"

"No, listen up. Martín. You're so important to me. You're…," Andrés said, taking a deep breath as he spoke, clearly having trouble finding words, "You're so.. you're _you._ You're mine. My engineer. My everything. Or at least, I want you to be that. I want you to be my everything."

"Andrés… what do you mean?" Martín asked. He was growing more and more confused each and every passing second, and his heart was swelling with hope again. 

"I just… you're just so… so… _ahhh,_ _por favor,_ just check your Google browsing history," Andrés said, a hint of embarassement on his flushed cheeks.

Martín nodded, deciding to follow Andrés' instructions. He opened his phone, going straight to his Chrome browsing app. 

He opened the search balk, then, like he'd done so many times before. Only now, the three upper searches weren't his. He stared at the words for almost a whole minute, his brain not processing them yet, before he finally realised what they meant. 

_**— you're not going back to Argentina - a.** _

_**— Martín, don't be dramatic. - a.** _

It was the last of the searches that made him feel warm all over for the second time that day. It kept replaying in his head over and over again, like a mantra.

_**— I love you too. - a.** _

Martín let out a shaky breath, accompanied by some tears he didn't even known he was still holding. But they were happy tears, this time. Tears of joy and shock. The result of being loved back.

"You love me," he said. It was all he could bring out.

"Yeah, I do," Andrés said with a chuckle, "you love me too."

"Yeah, I do," Martín said.

"You never told me," Andrés answered, leaning in slightly to place a chaste kiss on Martín's mouth.

"You didn't either," Martín answered, kissing Andrés' nose.

"That's true. We have to work on our communication skills, _cariño_ ," Andrés answered.

"Yeah, we should," Martín mumbled, 

Andrés grinned at that, taking Martín's phone away from him again. He straddled him once more, ready to attack him with kisses, but Martín started laughing beneath him. Andrés crossed his arms, raising his eyebrow at Martín. 

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe that we are _so_ bad at communicating that the _Google search bar,_ of all things, is what finally brought us together." 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> You can always follow me on my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/hannib4l).


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